


A Surprise Visit

by Schediaphilia



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: A copious and nauseating amount of love and acceptance, Attempt at Humor, Coming Out, Dirty Jokes, Fade to Black, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Sort Of, ooey gooey fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 22:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schediaphilia/pseuds/Schediaphilia
Summary: [Venture Bros Secret Santa 2018 gift]Dean decides to spend Christmas break with his roommate, who is, of course, a very good friend. Or maybe more than a friend. In any case, things are never that easy when you're a Venture.[Now with Hard of Seeing/Dyslexic/ADHD Friendly Skin]





	A Surprise Visit

**Author's Note:**

> [ This work has a skin that is intended to make it more accessible for those with visibility impairments, as well as people with processing disorders that make it more difficult to read. You can turn this skin off at the top of the work. ]
> 
> AU where everything is the same but the Sirena Situation never happens. 
> 
> I hope this is okay! Not going to lie, this is really unlike anything I've ever written. It posed a challenge in a lot of different ways for me and this is almost entirely outside of my comfort zone, almost entirely comprised of characters I've never really written before. 
> 
> I don't really know how to characterize Jared at all so [crosses fingers]! And sorry for writing out Hank, it just felt appropriate if I was retconning the Sirena Situation, that he'd be spending time with her. 
> 
> I'm not so good with fluff or writing more than two characters at a time and I think it shows but I hope you like this regardless! Thanks to everyone else who stumbles upon this and likes it.

Jared is leaning on Dean’s desk, which is honestly more than a little distracting.

That’s fine, Dean supposes, but he was hoping to finish checking his schedule for anything he might’ve overlooked. He wasn’t doing this because he was _ignoring_ Jared, no, that’s just-- that’s ridiculous. Dean just had had a lot of, y’know, nightmares. Typical college nightmares. Like waking up and needing to take an exam in a class you’ve never attended and your dad is the professor and he also breathes fire. Dean also distinctly remembers snakes. Snakes were involved somehow. Anyway.

Jared is leaning on Dean’s work desk and Dean is very casually flipping through it. Okay, he’s caught up on his homework, he’s finished his final exams for all but one class, and… Yeah, that’s why this feels so weird, there’s nothing to record, now that he thinks of it. It feels weird just having this blank patch and he’s already signed up for his classes after break--

“So… uhm...” Jared begins speaking lowly and slumps over, supporting himself with one arm awkwardly while rubbing the back of his head with another. He’s avoiding Dean’s eyes. Dean feels some sort of comfort that Jared is being weird about this too. Not that Dean’s being weird. He’s being totally normal. Probably. “Are you headed home for vacation or do I have the room to myself?”

Jared sort of tilts his head. He has a small smile on his lips but his eyes are looking distinctly above Dean’s face.

“Oh, well--” Dean falters, closing his scheduler. “I was thinking maybe this could be my first time away from home-- without my dad, I mean.” Jared nods, his fingers tensing on the desk. Huh, he’s pretty nervous. Dean isn’t entirely sure why, and ok why is he staring at his hand? That’s weird, right? Okay, he’ll just reopen his scheduler and--

“That’s great. You’ll love the dorm when break starts, it’s like a ghost town. Seriously, I don’t know why the other RAs complain about having to stay behind. We get all of the common room couches to ourselves, you don’t need to wait for the showers…” Jared trails off and pulls his arm down to stare at his knuckles in a forced nonchalant way. It was weird how quickly you tuned into someone’s mannerisms when you live with them for a few months.

Dean taps his fingers on his scheduler like he hadn’t intended to open it and blow off Jared at all, nope. Just tapping. That’s what he does, he taps. Well, that was really more Hank’s deal, but-- that doesn’t matter. Jared is trying to talk to him and it’s not like they’re not friends, it’s just _weird_ because, well… Well, maybe friends isn’t the right term anymore.

Dean didn’t like to think about it too hard, it gave him a stomachache, but he wasn’t really sure what he and Jared were anymore. Obviously he likes him. They have a lot in common, really. And he’s a really sweet guy, and sure he can be a little annoying and sometimes he distracts him from work, but he makes it for it with his sense of humor and really handsome smile and… Yeah, that was mostly what he was confused about.

Jared seemed to mirror his awkwardness with their relationship, though not initially. No, that’s a recent development, probably because they sort of made out last night. Okay, well, they’d kissed before. But it wasn’t like that, really, just sort of awkward and there was a lot of apologizing even though neither of them did anything wrong. Not that Dean knows of, anyway. And some other stuff happened last night Dean isn’t entirely comfortable putting into words right now lest his stomachache intensify. It was weird, like something from a dream, but neither of them were asleep and it just… happened. Not in a bad way like a nightmare, though. It was nice. It was really confusing but nice.

And he’s totally blowing off Jared by tapping on his scheduler manically. Great. Dean glances at his face and Jared has this tense look, like he thinks he said something wrong. Dean slaps his hands down with a bit too much force and forces a laugh, mind scrambling to respond.

“Yeah,” Dean pushes out breathlessly, “we could, like, probably marathon a show on the big tv. The common room one, I mean.”

Eugh, Dean, no, that’s stupid, why would you even say--

“That’s a great idea!” Jared replies, smiling, though he seems nervous still. Okay, good, he’s not beating himself up anymore, that’s good.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Jared winks and leans down even further, so that his elbow is pointed to the wall. Dean thinks he looks pretty uncomfortable, and he bets if he looks at his feet he’s probably bending his knees at a really weird angle. From this angle, Dean can sort of see one of his… is extra the right word? Is it offensive to call the extra eyes, well, extra? Anyway, he can sort of see them under his bangs from this angle. Is it rude to ask? Is it rude to ask if one side of his eyes wink or if it’s just the main two? He hadn’t really had a good look and--

Oh, okay, he’s leaning in close to him now. That’s okay. He smells good, so he doesn’t really mind. Like cheap shampoo, but in a good way. Dean turns to face him properly, acutely aware of the sensation of heat spreading on his cheeks.

“So… was last night… a one time thing or…?” Jared speaks lowly to him, quietly but smoothly, like it’s a secret.

“I-if you want it to be just a one time thing then I guess it is,” Dean replies in the same volume.

Jared tilts his head again and when he smiles, this time it’s wider, but it almost borders on a smirk.

“What if I said I want it to be at least a ten-time-thing?”

Dean raises his brows and laughs, “why ten?”

“I don’t know, I’m just wondering if this is… y’know, a recurring subscription type of thing or a one time order,” Jared props his head up on the arm he’s using to hold himself up on the desk.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure we could call it a ‘one time order’ anyway, I mean, we...” Dean falters for a moment but reminds himself that Jared almost definitely wouldn’t laugh at him. Not in a mean way, anyway, it was never in a mean way. “Maybe it’s uhm, more like upgrading our service, y’know? From Student to Prime? I mean, ‘cause we kissed before and all.”

That was stupid, but Jared was the one who started the theme so Dean guesses he’ll go with it.

“Prime subscription, huh? I was thinking more of a recurring monthly subscription sort of deal, but that sounds better. Prime...” Jared’s smile shifts to a softer one, “It has a ring to it.”

“Monthly sounds a little… Well, don’t people usually do this stuff more often?”

Jared’s smile shifts back into a near-smirk, “You’re right but I thought if I said ‘daily’ you’d think I was too greedy. And besides, I’m on a college budget in New York. I can’t afford anything with a daily payment.”

Dean chuckles and leans on his desk, pushing his scheduler away with his elbow. He hears it clatter to the floor behind his desk and for a brief moment he realizes it’ll be annoying trying to fish it out from behind it. But then he feels Jared’s breath on his face, just barely, and all he can think about is him.

“And what sort of theoretical currency are you paying, anyway?” Dean asks.

“Doesn’t matter, I can’t afford it.” Jared replies in a flat tone, feigning seriousness.

“What if you just pay me in--” Dean pauses. In what? Should he got the romantic route, throw all caution to the wind? That seemed viable, Jared seemed interested. But that was sort of… it feels a little dorky.

“Kisses?” Jared offers.

Dean feels the heat on his face intensify just a bit.

“Yeah, that works,” Dean hides his face in the hand he’s leaning on, but only partly, because he’s not super embarrassed. Just medium embarrassed.

“In that case, maybe I should pay an advance?”

Before Dean can fully process what he’d said, Jared is leaning in even closer, and he instinctively does the same. He sighs out softly, feeling the heat of Jared’s body like an aura around him as he’s just barely an inch away, and lets his eyes slip closed.

And then all the heat whisps away in an instant, and for a moment Dean has no idea what the thumping sound was. He opens his eyes and startles when he sees Jared laying on the floor, arms bent at awkward angles.

Dean jumps from his chair and kneels down, “Sorry,” he apologizes even though he doesn’t really think that was his fault, “are you okay?”

Dean spots pale red on Jared’s face as he offers his hand. Jared reaches out and instead grabs onto Dean’s shoulder. When he pulls himself up, Dean lets himself relax. He was worried for a moment he’d landed on something funny and got hurt, but he seems ok.

“Hey, I guess I can say I knocked you off your feet now,” Dean laughs quietly.

Jared laughs, hard, “I forgot I was in my street clothes,” he says in between laughs. When he composes himself a bit, he wraps his arm around Dean’s shoulders and pulls him closer in a half-hug motion.

“Not easy to knock a spider off his feet,” Jared grins.

“I can’t say I’ve ever tried,” Dean offers as he leans into Jared’s body.

“What, and you’re _not even trying_? I don’t stand a chance!” Jared pulls on him, and Dean lets him pull him over without thinking about it.

“Dean Venture, slayer of the Brown Widow,” Jared smiles as he pulls on Dean’s shirt, sliding backwards, back onto the floor. Dean resists only slightly.

“Slayer sounds pretty… violent… How about wooer?” Dean thinks out loud nervously when he notes Jared is definitely one hundred percent pulling Dean on top of him. Not that he’d really tried to woo him.

“Seducer works too,” Jared says when his backs meets the floor and, okay Dean gets he’s being spontaneous, but why the floor? It’s cold, one of the posts of Dean’s bed is right next to Jared’s head, this is disaster waiting to happen and-- wait, was he joking or did he sort of seriously mean that?

“Really?” Dean asks as he hovers over Jared carefully, he doesn’t really want to put his full body weight on him.

“No, I jerked you off because you’re not at all attractive.”

How can Jared just open his mouth and say that without bursting into flames from sheer embarrassment? Not that Dean’s complaining… Unless Jared, somehow, for some reason, isn’t being sarcastic… No, that didn’t make sense.

“Well, well, while we’re speaking of cliches, it’s seems I’ve rendered you speechless,” Jared remarks with an overly boastful tone that betrays the tender way his hand is running up and down Dean’s arm.

Dean breathes in hard and blinks thrice too many times to be necessary.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes before he leans down to nuzzle into the nape of Jared’s neck. He pauses. “Now can we get off the floor?”

\---------------------------------------------------

A Week Later

“Ugh, God, I do not miss dorm life...” Rusty remarks as he clomps into the building Brock had lead them to. Now that he thinks about it, he probably should know where his son lives without Brock’s help.

“I don’t know, there’s something nostalgic about it.” Hatred booms next to him and Rusty dearly wishes the man had a volume dial. Or maybe just a mute button. That’d work in a pinch, but he’d probably forget to unmute him. Not that that’d necessarily be too much of an issue.

“Brock, did Dean reply to your text?” Rusty asks while pointedly ignoring Hatred.

“Oh come on, Rust, he’s a college kid, what do you think he’s doing at noon?” White speaks out from somewhere behind him.

“Sleeping?” Billy asks.

“Or mas--”

“I’m quite aware of what college students get up to, I don’t need a refresher,” Rusty cuts off Pete and didn’t even have the energy to turn to glare at him as he pulled down his jacket hood.

He hears someone snort to his left and before he can stop himself he turns his head to look at them. Great, now he looks interested in this conversation, perfect. That won’t egg them on at all.

“Yeah, especially considering Dean’s friend.” Pete says.

“Just what are you implying?” Rusty cuts in when Billy and Pete snicker.

“Oh, come on, Rust. You don’t think it’s a little telling he wanted to spend Christmas hanging out with his ‘special friend’?”

Rusty squints and furrows his brow, “And I suppose you’d know all about that?”

White shrugs with a small smirk but Billy’s quiet laughter dies off entirely.

“They’re just close friends,” Rusty asserts. He’s had plenty of friends in college he much preferred spending time with over his father. In fact, he preferred even spending time with Underbheit to going home for the holidays. In retrospect, he also thinks a root canal would be preferable, but that wasn’t the point.

“Not that it matters if they’re… y’know, really close, right?” Hatred offers in a manner that he’d consider meek if not for the fact you could probably be deaf and still be able to hear him. Seriously, he already regretted letting him come along, he drank too much last night and it was snowing and it was _cold_ and he really, all in all, wasn’t in the mood to put up with this right now. He had barely managed to get everyone into cars while Orpheus was getting ready. Not that it really mattered he’d probably just… apparate? Teleport? Astral project?

Rusty felt the air from outside hit him before he heard the door open.

Speak of the devil… or, necromancer, evidently.

Orpheus hauls himself inside and bends down, hands on his knees as he gasps for breath. He coughs.

“You… okay there, buddy?” Pete asks to the coughing man.

“Oh, yes, I’m,” he wheezes, “fine.”

Hatred tosses Rusty a frown and he doesn’t even have the energy to care right now. Oh, so he’s the bad guy here?

“It seems you left me behind while I was grabbing my mittens,” Orpheus manages, “but I couldn’t miss surprising young Dean.”

“Awesome.” Rusty remarks in a flat tone, turning to Brock, “Did you remember the gifts?”

“Yeah, I think I got them all, it’s just the uh… purple bag and… ugly green box?”

“I think that’s mustard.” Pete says.

“No, it’s more of a… unpleasant yellow.” says Billy.

“So it’s mustard.” Pete affirms.

“No it’s more of a tan.” says Hatred.

“All of you are wrong, it’s _chartreuse_ , and _yes_ that’s all of them,” Rusty interjects.

“Like the liqueur ?” Orpheus asks, still a breathing a bit heavily.

“Yes, like the liquor.” Rusty swears his eyes are about to detach and roll up into his skull permanently.

“So… ugly green.” says Brock.

Rusty breathes in deeply. He closes his eyes and presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he relents, “ugly green.” He adjusts his glasses, “Now can we please stop standing around like idiots and figure out where Dean’s room is?”

This should be simple. Just drop in, ask how he is, how his classes went, drop off some surprise gifts, give him a hug, wish him a merry Christmas and saunter on back home. Originally, it was just going to be him and Brock, but he’d made the mistake of talking about it in the lab while Billy and Pete were working and, well, once _they_ had to go, Hatred had to too. Obviously. Because nothing can ever be simple.

“Kaaay,” Brock says and pushes in front of Rusty, “I think it was the third floor. Eh, they’re labelled, we’ll figure it out.”

And they’re moving. Finally.

“What flew up your ass?” Pete asks, “Come on, it’s Christmas. Lighten up a little.”

Rusty rolls his eyes, “Well, since you asked, we ran out of Caffex and Brock didn’t tell me the pot was normal coffee so--”

“So you got a tummy ache?” Pete snickers.

“I have a sensitive colon,” Rusty grumbles. Today just wasn’t really going his way.

“Uh, yeah, my bad on that. I should’ve warned you.”

At least Brock apologized. Rusty heaves out a sigh and crosses his arms, “It’s fine, nothing some pepto can’t fix. Or a lot.”

“You know there’s a max dosage, right?” Billy asks as they pile into the elevator, squeezing into it.

“It’s a bottle of pink chalk goo, how much damage can it do?” Rusty states more than asks.

Pete makes a vague noise of agreement.

“No, I’m pretty sure you can get really sick if you have too much,” Billy reiterates, voice a bit on edge.

“Okay, but how much is too much?” Pete counters, “Half a bottle? 20 bottles?”

“Ugh, I’m Googling this,” Billy says as the elevator elevates them excruciatingly slowly. Eugh, historical buildings. Just because it’s built in 1893 or whatever doesn’t mean the elevator needs to be period appropriate.

It’s quiet for several moments, everyone finally settling down.

“It’s a shame Hank couldn’t make it,” shouts Hatred directly next to Rusty. Okay, seriously, does he _have_ to stand right next to him?

“I was wondering where Hank was,” says Orpheus, voice still a bit raspy. Oh, you only had to run a few blocks, stop being so dramatic.

“He has something with his girlfriend, apparently,” Rusty says.

“He has a girlfriend?” asks Pete.

“Apparently.” Rusty replies.

“He’s really sweet on her too, it’s adorable,” says Hatred.

“What, you knew about her?” Rusty turns to him, incredulous. He glares up at him.

“Are you serious?” asks Brock in a snippish tone as the elevator doors finally open.

“What?” Rusty asks in a not-at-all-defensive tone.

“He only can’t stop talking for her for five minutes at a time, ‘course he knew about her.” Brock mutters.

Rusty breathes in and digs his fingers into his coat. This is just perfect. His bodyguard and ex bodyguard are conspiring against him in making him look like a bad father. He is perfectly attentive. Ok, so he didn’t know about Hank’s girlfriend, or which building Dean lived in, but he cared enough to want to surprise him with some gifts. He’s a great dad… Eugh, he didn’t have the energy to have this argument with himself right now.

“So, where’s uh…” Oh, come on, Thaddeus, you’re already getting your balls busted for not being attentive and now you can’t remember Orpheus’s friends’ names… He wasn’t too sure about the black one, but he’s certain he knows the gay one’s name. Prom aside, the man was charming enough. Ah, right. “Where’s Al and… company?”

Orpheus audibly clears his throat, a closed fist to his lips. He looks more composed now. Rusty almost feels bad about the fact he apparently ran to meet up with them. He’s magic, supposedly, he could’ve done anything else, surely. Not his fault. And besides, they were already stuffed like sardines split between Brock’s car and the taxi Billy and Pete generously offered to take and pay for themselves. There wasn’t even enough room for Billy in the back with Hatred in tow, anyway.

“Al, unfortunately, couldn’t attend. He was feeling under the weather.” Orpheus sort of trails off as they all turn a sharp corner in the claustrophobia inducingly narrow halls. “But if I’m being honest, I suspect he was a bit too heavy handed with the bottle last night.”

“So he’s hungover when he said he’d help surprise Dean?” Rusty states more than asks. Great friends, Orpheus. Not that he could really blame the guy, if Dean wasn’t _his_ kid, he probably would’ve flaked too.

“I’m afraid so. In his defense, he was mourning a regretful break up. He was quite infatuated with him from my understanding.” Orpheus explains in a low voice. Hatred grunts in a way that’s probably supposed to sound sympathetic.

“I think it was this way,” Brock says quietly, probably mostly to himself, and Rusty pointedly ignores Billy and Pete murmuring behind him.

They turn yet another sharp corner, for some ungodly reason, and continue onwards.

“As for Jefferson, well… He was a bit heavy handed with a different kind of bottle,” Orpheus seems to struggle for words.

“What? Like? A pill bottle? What kind of bottle are we talking about?” Pete interjects.

“Oh Gods no-- those little quaint waxen ones with sugar water inside,” Orpheus clarifies in a surprised tone.

Wait, isn’t he diabetic?

“So… One of your little triad has a hangover and the other is in a diabetic coma?” Rusty asks.

“...That’s a vast oversimplification and rather reductionist but… Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Orpheus mumbles out the last few words.

“Ah, yup, Dean Venture,” Brock interrupts while shoving the chartreuse-wrapped box and purple gift bag under his arm and knocks.

Rusty runs face first into Brock’s back. He reorients himself and pushes up his glasses, backing up awkwardly. He hadn’t even realized he’d stopped walking.

“He didn’t text back so give him a minute,” Brock says while shifting the gifts once more. Brock doesn’t even glance back at him, opting to instead look at his phone.

“More like give _them_ a minute,” Pete laughs before yelping.

“Don’t embarrass him,” says Billy and-- Did he punch him? Pffff.

“Just a minute!” Dean’s voice sounds from the other side of the door and they all quietly regard one another.

“He’s just sleeping in,” Rusty passive aggressively states by the knowing glances among the other men.

From here, Rusty can hear two men talking, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. He could recognize that baritone anywhere. And Dean’s voice… well, he was more contralto, if Rusty had to guess.

It’s quiet then. The only noise is coming from the otherside of the door, the sound of shuffling, two voices talking lowly.

“So Billy?” Pete asks, quietly.

“What?”

“You figure out if you can overdose on pepto?”

Billy sighs in a low voice, “Technically, but I can’t find any dosage amounts.”

“So we’re both right,” Pete says in a smug tone.

“No we-- ugh, sure. We’re both right,” Billy relents.

There’s a click then and Rusty sighs in relief then. The door slowly swings inward, and out pops Dean in the side of the frame.

“Uh… oh, wow…” Dean is still in his pajamas, Rusty notes smugly. “Hey everyone,” Dean waves a little, weak wave at them.

\---------------------------------------------------

10 Minutes Earlier

There’s a strange atmosphere about the dorms the last several days. It’s eerily quiet. It’s peaceful, in a way, but it’s not like a church peaceful. It’s more like a Target on it’s last day before closing peaceful. Jared seemed happy though, so Dean took it in stride. He was right about the couch and shower thing, and he even convinced an RA on another floor to let him borrow his VCast so they could watch Christmas movies.

That was yesterday, though, and so far they weren’t doing much of anything today except complaining about how cold it is outside of their beds before snuggling up to one another. Oh, yeah, that was a thing, they rearranged their room to push their beds together. It wasn’t _technically_ against any rules and inspections were done anyway.

It was nice. Dean had never really slept naked before. Not on purpose, anyway. They didn’t have a blanket big enough for both of them, so they just huddled together with their own blankets in tow. It was weird but nice to sleep next to someone. Well, it was sort of difficult, Jared apparently tosses and turns a lot, and he’d gotten whacked in the face at least twice. But that’s okay, there’s probably a learning curve to stuff like this. And besides, Dean still felt bad for accidentally headbutting Jared. Jared said it didn’t hurt that much, but that’s like getting hit in the eyes times two probably. It was nice of him to not make a big deal of it, though.

Last night, they said they’d order takeout since it was Christmas Eve and all but… Dean blindly flops his arm around looking for his phone. He swears he had it just ten minutes ago. Or maybe that was thirty. Or an hour. He locates it underneath his pillow. Noon… Wait, really? Noon?

Dean sits up, shivering when his blanket slides past his shoulders. At this rate they’d sleep all day, he should probably at least get dressed. Though, when Jared stirs and turns over to look up at Dean fondly, he thinks wasting the day might not be too bad.

Lazily he slides back down into bed, heart fluttering when Jared welcomes him back by wrapping his arms around him. He sighs and leans into him.

“What time’s it?” Jared mumbles against his ear.

Dean squirms, laughing, “That tickles,” he chides as he pulls away.

“Sorry,” Jared says in an entirely unapologetic tone.

Dean checks his phone again, “Twelve thirteen.”

It’s then he notices a message notification from Brock. Well it’s probably not a big deal but it’d be good to check, it was probably just general Merry Christmases and all that. That reminds him he should probably do the same.

He swipes into his messages and has to reread the messages three times.

**Brock**

heads up your father and i heading to see you today

_9:27 AM_

were here

_12:04 PM_

 

Dean momentarily can’t breathe. Here? Like here-here? Like, the campus, or the dorm or--

“Something wrong, babe?” Jared asks as he slowly sits up.

Normally, Dean would note the fact he’s never called him ‘babe’ before than he’s not entirely sure how he feels about it. He might even remark on it feeling a little demeaning but also strangely endearing. But Dean didn’t really have time to worry about that right now considering the fact he was currently naked in bed with his -- whatever they were -- and he’s fairly certain he’s only gently implied the nature of their relationship to Uncle Hatred and-- Oh no, what will Dad think?

“My family is coming,” Dean half mumbles as he hauls himself out of bed, bounding to his dresser in three large steps.

“What?” Jared asks, Dean can hear him shifting in bed, “Like now?”

“I don’t know,” Dean says in a rushed cadence, “Brock sent me a text and apparently they’re--”

Three solid knocks emanate through the wooden door.

“Oh,” is all Jared manages as a reply as he follows suit on getting dressed.

Dean is bending over, struggling to pull on a pair of briefs when he chirps out, “Just a minute!”

Great, just great, the one day he sleeps in. He pulls on a sock, hopping haphazardly to keep his balance. “Why today?” he asks in a grumble to himself as he pulls on another sock.

“They didn’t tell you they were coming?” Jared asks in a confused tone.

Dean finds the closest pair of jeans and just about throws himself into them, “Yeah, like two hours ago.”

“And they expected you to just drop everything with two hours notice?”

Wait, is he angry or something? At Dean? Dean pauses and realizes the pants he’s trying to put on are far too long in the leg, stepping on the denim underfoot. These aren’t his. Dean rushes to remove them and closes his underwear drawer with a slam, yanking open his pants drawer shortly after. “I guess,” he explains distractedly.

Empty? How is the drawer empty?

“Jared? Did we do laundry yet this week?” Dean asks, hoping he had clean pants hiding somewhere he couldn’t see them.

“What--” Jared starts and after a short pause continues, “Just put on your pajama pants?”

Dean for a moment wants to object that he can’t see company in his pjs, it just was impolite, but these were desperate times and desperate times means desperate measures. He pulls on his pajama pants.

“Have you seen my headband?” Jared’s voice rings out somewhere to the left as Dean finds a shirt, any shirt, and is careful to note if it’s actually his before pulling it over his head.

“Uhm,” Dean wracks his brain, “Didn’t you hang it on the bed post?”

“Oh, yes,” Jared mumbles.

Dean pulls his shirt down, attempting to make it look a bit more presentable.

“Should I comb my hair?” Dean asks out loud even though he was mostly wondering to himself in a slight panic. He runs a hand through it. Oh god, he can just feel that it looks like a mess.

“You look fine--” Dean interrupts Jared’s words when he crowds in next to him at the mirror on the back of their door, brushing his hair with his fingers. Jared is brushing his own hair, which looks fine if you ask Dean, but whatever.

Dean pauses then and takes a good look at himself. Okay. He looks okay. He looks like he just woke up, which was accurate, but he looked okay. Jared looks okay too, he’d thrown on a pair of his own pajamas pants and a t-shirt, probably because Dean accidentally grabbed his jeans. Whoops. Well, at least they look equally underprepared.

Okay. Okay, he can do this, it’s just Brock and his dad. No big deal. His dad knows Jared, and Jared hasn’t really met Brock except in passing as far as Dean knows, but that’s okay too.

“You ready?” Dean asks as he reaches out to the handle.

“Yeah, guess so.”

With a firm grip, he turns the handle and opens the door, angling it so that he was peeking out of the doorframe and--

There are a lot of people. Dean stares blankly, mouth open for a moment. Okay, so there’s Brock, who has-- are those presents? And next to him is his dad, who looks grumpier than usual which is really saying something. Behind them is Uncle Hatred, and he’s pretty sure he can see Mr. Whalen peeking out next to Mr. White. All the way in the back is Mr. Orpheus, bundled up in a puffy coat that makes him look uncharacteristically approachable.

“Uh, oh… wow,” Dean says as he realizes he looks like a slob in front of basically everyone he knows at home. “Hey, everyone…” Dean manages to get out as he weakly waves at the group, not really sure what to do.

But then his dad is moving and-- oh, okay, of course he’s decided to barge into his dorm room, that’s pretty characteristic of him, and--

“We thought we’d drop in to surprise you,” he hears his dad say as he slips in besides him, the group following suit.

“It’s a surprise all right,” Dean mumbles as he opens the door and stands aside. It’d just be rude to tell them to stay out now. It wasn’t worth the argument that’s almost certainly follow anyway.

Their dorm room isn’t very large, so quite quickly everyone ends up taking most of the empty floor. There’s this weird quiet to them as everyone settles. The quiet stretches on longer and Dean gets the idea that something is wrong. He glances at Jared who’s looking at the floor. Okay, that’s not a good sign.

Dean looks at each person individually. Uncle Hatred has his hands clasped in a way that looked out of place for such a large man and he’s smiling at him. Okay, he seems normal, silence aside.

Mr. Orpheus is making this sort of weak wheezing breath, maybe he has a cold? Otherwise, he looks entirely neutral except for looking around at the men surrounding him. He seems confused too. At least Dean wasn’t the only one not in on ‘it’.

“So,” Mr. White begins, putting his hand on Dean’s desk and leaning on it casually, “Grateful Dead? Who’s the stoner?”

“That’s mine,” Jared says, “but I’m not a stoner. Sorry to disappoint.”

Okay, they’re joking, okay-- Oh God he didn’t introduce him to everyone!

Dean nearly hops out of his skin as he stands next to Jared and grabs his upper arm loosely, “I’m sorry, where are my manners?”

He forces a smile onto his face, “Everyone, this is Jared, my roommate!” He’s speaking a bit too fast but for some reason he just can’t slow his mouth down, “That’s my dad-- obviously, you know him--” Dean points, “That’s Uncle Hatred-- you know him too.” Dean catches his dad look at Uncle Hatred but he doesn’t think much of it when he points out Mr. Whalen, “That’s Mr. Whalen, he’s Master Billy Quizboy and is a genius but now he works for my dad.” He points to Mr. Whalen’s right, “And that’s Mr. White, he’s like Mr. Whalen’s sidekick and he’s really good with computers! He works for my dad too.”

“Pink Pilgrim,” Mr. White interjects. For a moment, Dean can’t figure out what those words in that specific order mean. “And I’m not his sidekick. We’re more like a-- a duo, y’know?”

Dean blinks rapidly, putting a hand to his forehead, “Oh, right, sorry. Uhm,” he points at Brock, “That’s Brock, he’s our bodyguard,” Brock is sort of hunched over to set down the presents he’s holding onto Dean’s bed--

Dean’s bed which is slid right up to Jared’s. Upon which there is Dean’s blue blanket, but only a quarter or so of it, because the rest of it is wrapped around Jared’s red blanket. That was why they were all quiet, huh. Okay. This is okay. This is fine.

“And I am Dr. Orpheus, necromancer and master of forces unseen; protector of the fragile web that holds our reality together lest it fall prey to entropy,” rings out a deep voice from behind everyone else. “Oh, and I brought cookies,” Orpheus adds in a sing-song voice, holding up a little bag with a snowman on it.

“Oh,” Dean nods, glancing around at everyone haphazardly, “That’s nice, thank you.”

As embarrassing as this was, wasn’t something missing here?

“Merry Christmas,” says his dad, who looks like he’s sweating in his coat, “I thought my college man needed a little pick-me-up and presents never hurt.” His dad pushes around everyone to grab the purple gift bag when it hits Dean what’s missing.

“Where’s Hank?”

“Oh, he’s spending time with his little girlfriend,” Uncle Hatred says with a smile.

Dean breathes in and out slowly, willing his heart to slow down. It’s just family. Family and Mr. Orpheus and Dad’s friends and/or employees. But then again, Dean is pretty sure Mr. Whalen and Mr. White are dating because he overheard Mr. Rodney call Mr. White Mr. Whalen’s “better half” once and he didn’t even get embarrassed or anything. And Uncle Hatred already knows, sort of. They weren’t entirely straightforward and they weren’t really sure what to call their relationship then anyway. “Friends who kiss sometimes” is way too much information. And Brock’s friends with Shoreleave and Sky Pilot who Dean is roughly 110% sure are gay. Not together, just in general.

And his dad wasn’t freaking out or anything even though he’s pretty sure there’s literally no way he couldn’t put two and two together here. Yeah, everyone is okay, so what if they know they at minimum sleep next to each other? Okay, sure, they’re probably assuming they sleep together, but that’s okay too. And one of Mr. Orpheus’s friends is gay, he’s pretty sure. He hadn’t really asked but he’s pretty sure he and Shoreleave dated at some point. He thinks. That year is pretty foggy for some reason.

“Oh, uh… Al couldn’t make it?” Dean asks because Orpheus is so far the most conversational and least intimidating familiar face.

“Hangover,” his dad says in flat voice, his arms crossed.

Mr. Orpheus’s face falls, his lips pursing slightly as he looks in his dad’s direction.

“Oh… what about Mr. Jefferson?” Dean asks.

“Diabetic ketoacidosis,” his dad replies, his intonation raising with every syllable.

Dean blinks.

“Oh my gosh, is he okay?” Dean blubbers out the moment the words fully process.

“Oh yes,” Mr. Orpheus’s eyebrows are furrowed, “he’s merely in a bit of a slump. Nothing as dramatic as ketoacidosis, I assure you,” the man waves his hands slightly, small bag swinging in his hands.

“Anyway,” his dad interjects not even a moment after Mr. Orpheus is done speaking, “why don’t you open your presents?” A moment after the shiny purple bag is shoved into his hands by his dad, who’s looking at him expectantly.

“Oh, okay, uh, thanks,” Dean mumbles as he pulls out the white, glittery paper. He stares at the plastic clamshell packaging of the calculator. It was a nice one, Dean guesses, with lots of different buttons he wasn’t entirely sure the function of.

“Oh, a calculator...” Dean forces a smile and reminds himself he does need to talk Calculus next semester and this _would_ come in handy and it’s not like only scientists do math or something--

“A _science_ calculator.” Dad interrupts, and Dean can’t bring himself to be upset because at least he sounds happy about it. He’s not freaking out, so that’s good.

That was really all he could ask for right now. It’s not that he didn’t trust his dad it was-- okay, it was that he didn’t trust his dad. Not because he’s an especially bad guy or bigoted or something he was just… unpredictable at times. And plus he’s pretty sure his dad one time tried to eradicate ‘the gay gene’. But he also thinks he might’ve taken a few too many diet pills that weekend. Brock said to not take him too seriously when that happened, and it used to happen a lot.

“A _science_ calculator...” Dean mimics his emphasis and places it gently on the closest surface, which is Jared’s bed.

“Okay, now the big gift,” his dad says and motions for Brock to hand over a long rectangular box covered with a really ugly yellow pattern. Or maybe it was green? Dean accepts it when Brock leans over Dean’s bed to hand it to him. He holds it in his hands for a moment, as if forgetting how to unwrap a gift. He shakes his head and sits down on the edge of Jared’s bed.

He tears into it, and when he sees the photos on the box, he stops himself from getting excited just in case this was one of those “it’s not what’s on the box” gifts.

“If you’re wondering, it _is_ what the box says it is.” his dad says when Dean’s silent a bit too long while pulling the paper off.

Dean can’t stop himself from smiling.

“And I helped him pick it out!” Mr. White adds as Dean runs his hand along the top of the glossy cardboard. A new laptop. And it looks _really_ nice. Like something Uncle JJ would use-- or maybe make-- when he was around.

“You can play games on it, watch movies in HD, it even has a blu ray player,” Mr. White lists off the features with pride in his tone.

“ _And_ do school work.” his dad adds in a stern tone. He’s quiet for several moments, “But some video gaming now and then helps with memory retention, pattern recognizance, and hand-eye coordination.” he adds with a small smile.

“Is that what you tell yourself when you play Zelda for the tenth hour in a row?” Mr. White asks with a snort.

Everyone else chuckles, including Jared, so Dean does too. Not because he’s trying to fit in but because he genuinely feels better with everyone laughing.

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, White.” his dad says with a smirk, “At least I didn’t miss an exam because I spent all night playing Pac-Man on Atari, of _all_ things.”

Mr. White laughs harder, “Okay, yeah, you got me there pally!”

“Seriously?” asks Mr. Whalen in an incredulous voice, “You pulled an all nighter and missed an exam to play one of the worst video games of all time?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was high?” asks Mr. White, looking down to Mr. Whalen with a smile.

“That goes without saying, I’d have a harder time believing you were sober.” Mr. Whalen replies playfully, and he’s probably smiling but Dean can’t see him because he’s behind Uncle Hatred.

“Oh, come on, that’s all a part of the college experience,” Uncle Hatred booms, grinning, “making a few bad mistakes, breaking a few hearts, maybe a few bones. It’s good life experience!”

“You went to college?” his dad asks but doesn’t look at Uncle Hatred.

“Well, I dropped out...” Uncle Hatred says sort of meekly. His meek is still pretty loud though, if Dean didn’t know the guy well enough, he’d probably think he wasn’t affected at all. “But that’s what I heard.”

“Yes, I concur,” Mr. Orpheus adds, steepling his fingers, “the college years necessitate making and sequentially learning from mistakes… Assuming nothing too big, of course.” Mr. Orpheus adds the last part a bit late, but it’s not like Dean needs to be told not to commit a felony or anything.

“Not that you’re making any mistakes.” his dad sort of laughs in a breathless way, “I’m certain that _you’ll_ , that--” he pauses a bit too long to be natural. The silence stretches on.

“Yeah, you’re doing great, kiddo,” Uncle Hatred adds with an awkward smile and _oh_ they’re totally talking about Jared and he aren’t they? Okay, that’s fine, that’s-- that’s good, actually. They’re being supportive! Dean really wishes he wasn’t in his pajamas, and he really wishes it wasn’t putting Jared on the spot like this, and-- Oh, crap, he completely forgot to check if he’s holding up okay.

Dean glances at him and he’s… okay. He looks as embarrassed as Dean is. He’s holding his forearm with the opposite hand and smiling in a kind of cute bashful way. Dean pushes the laptop box off his lap and stands up, sidling up the very short distance to be next to him to offer some sort of support. It was Dean’s family, after all.

“Well, let me put it this way...” his dad says slowly, and Dean isn’t sure what to think when he sees his dad glance between the pair of them for two very, very long seconds. “At least you can’t get pregnant.”

Dean blinks. Once. Twice.

“And I know this probably isn’t the time for this, but please tell me you’re using c--”

The moment the words finally translate into intelligible English in Dean’s brain he’s nearly shouting out a hurried “yes” followed by a few “of course”s and he’s pretty sure it’s not physically possible to blush any harder. He’s pretty sure he’ll actually, literally, spontaneously combust if he blushes even a fraction more.

Think of the positives, Dean. He’s being nice! He’s positive! He’s not angry! He’s not homophobic! Or, okay, well, he directed a lot of microaggressions at Mr. White and Mr. Whalen before, but they’re friends and they usually laugh it off so it’s probably okay. And it was kind of homophobic to automatically jump to sexual stuff considering the over-sexualization of gay relationships, but he was just doing that weird overly-concerned-parent-thing. Overall, not a homophobe. Yay! Well, Dean thinks he knew that before now, but he just never wanted to tell him because… Well, first of all, Dean wasn’t really _sure_ what he was yet. He still really isn’t-- and that’s okay, a lot of people aren’t sure, of course, and if it were anyone _but_ Dean he’d tell them that but--

Jared laughs then and it completely cuts off Dean’s train of thought. He glances at him, and he has a hand on his forehead, against his headband. Faintly, Dean wonders if feels weird to do that or if it’s just like rubbing your eyes when you’re sleepy. Or something like that.

Dean startles when he feels something at his shoulder blade, but quickly realizes it’s Jared’s fingers tracing up his shirt slowly. Dean relaxes and realizes that his spontaneous combustion hypothesis is a total bust because he apparently can blush harder when Jared places a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jared’s fingers flex in a little squeeze.

“You don’t need to worry about that, Dr. Venture,” Jared says in a surprisingly confident tone and Dean is suddenly incredibly envious of his acting ability.

“Oh, good,” his dad says, looking pretty embarrassed himself. He probably realized too late that was a pretty awkward thing to say, knowing him.

“Well, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” interjects Uncle Hatred, a bit louder than usual so he was basically yelling, “you two are just adorable!”

His hypothesis is proven wrong twofold. Jared shifts his hand to lie on the nape of Dean’s neck and pulls him gently closer, so their sides are touching. Right now, they probably look just like a couple. Which is fitting because they are one. Yeah. That’s a thing. They’re a couple. Or maybe they’re “friends who kiss and have sex”. Dean’s pretty sure there’s a term for that but right now it’s not at all coming to him and it’s not exactly something he’d ever considered before. But right now, they look just like a couple, what with Dean leaning his head again Jared’s shoulder, they way Dean is bashfully smiling…

“Thank you,” Jared says as he squeezes Dean’s shoulder again.

Jared looks at Dean, as if expecting something. Dean blinks. Oh, right, they probably expected him to say something. “Thanks,” Dean blurts out before he can process everything fully. But then he thinks further. “It means a lot.” Dean adds. But that doesn’t seem like enough. “I mean, all of you guys being so nice and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his dad says before anyone else can say something, as was routine for him, “we support you and all that cr--” his dad pauses for a second, nearly cringing, “stuff.” He adjusts his glasses, “But you know _most_ people come out of the closet before they start dating.”

“Ehh, not necessarily,” says Brock with a shrug, “I mean, most people can figure out from context you’re not straight if you bring home a dude.” His dad shoots Brock a look. “Just saying.” Brock adds, meeting Dad’s glare.

His dad throws up his hands, “I’m just saying I could’ve used a little warning. That’s all.” He sounds really defensive for some reason. Dean almost feels like maybe he should apologize, but he doesn’t really want to if he’s being honest. For a moment, it looks like his dad is about to say something more, like he’s revving up for something, but he doesn’t.

“Anyway,” false alarm; his dad begins speaking again in a totally not-at-all forced casual tone, “we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Dean is surprised how casually he said the term ‘lovebirds’. Like that’s just something people say without feeling like a big dork. “You should’ve told me you were dating,” his dad chides, “I know better than to drop in on a couple’s first Christmas together.” He smirks and winks in a way that’s probably supposed to be like ‘I get it’ but just serves to make Dean want to crawl under the beds and never come back out. Except maybe for the cookies Mr. Orpheus brought. Or maybe if Jared asks nicely.

His dad smiles and holds out his arms, like he’s asking for a hug. Oh. He probably is. That wasn’t… usual, but Dean supposes the situation calls for it. Dean awkwardly walks over and hugs him in a weak grip for three whole seconds before his dad let’s go and backs off. Yeah, he never really was much of a hugger. Dean guesses he’s trying to really drive the whole “I’m a cool, supportive parent” thing home. Dean’s not really sure how he feels in general regarding this whole mess but… that’s nice of him. He’s trying really hard and Dean is thankful for it, even though he’s not sure how he can vocalize it. He’s sort of feeling a lot of emotions right now, several of which he thought were mutually exclusive until about ten minutes ago.

Brock reaches over when his dad steps back and rustles Dean’s hair like he used to when he was little. Dean laughs and pulls away, “Merry Christmas,” is all Brock says as he puts his hands in his pockets.

Brock beings walking to the door, but Uncle Hatred lingers behind for a moment before lunging in, wrapping his large arms around Dean. “Merry Christmas!” he just about shouts in a wavering voice, “I’m so proud of you. Why, when I started arching your old man you were just a beautiful little boy--”

Dad clears his throat. Uncle Hatred sniffles. “You grew up strong. Healthy. You don’t let anyone tell you who you can and cannot love--”

“Unless it’s illegal,” his dad cuts him off again with a rather cold look.

“Unless it’s illegal,” Uncle Hatred repeats in a quiet voice, but quiet for him was still pretty loud, and pulls away. Is he crying? Aww, that’s sort of sweet and sort of weird. But mostly sweet. Probably. 

Someone clears their throat, which sounds particularly phlegmy. Mr. Orpheus covers his mouth for a second, coughing, then speaks in a bit of a rasp, “What…” Dean isn’t sure if he’s struggling for words or for air, “wonderful advice. It is good to see you’re in good health, Dean.”

Mr. Whalen and Mr. White voice wordless agreements.

“Have a very merry Christmas,” Mr. Orpheus adds after clearing his throat again.

“And you have a happy Yule,” Dean answers a bit bashfully, hands behind his back.

Mr. Orpheus doesn’t respond for a moment before his brows raise, a small smile forming. “Oh, yes, hopefully Al attended to the Yule log dutifully, lest we have any spirits remaining from the solstice.”

Dean nods because he has no idea what that really means, he just remembered Mr. Orpheus had called it Yule once and he thought that was sort of neat and wanted to be nice.

“What he said.” says Mr. White, grinning, and Dean is almost certain he also has no idea what it means, “See ya.” he adds before yanking open the door Brock has half-opened and stepping out of the cramped room. 

“Ditto,” says Mr. Whalen, waving his metal hand as he hustles to follow Mr. White’s much longer gait. Orpheus hesitates a few moments before following their lead. A moment later he appears back in the doorway and leans around to deposit the bag of cookies on the desk next to the door before leaving once more. Uncle Hatred seems to hesitate as well, glancing at the men in the room for several moments. Finally, he waves and awkwardly sidles out of the room, looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Bye now,” Jared says, waving with a smile that was a bit too picturesque to not be rehearsed.

“It was nice seeing you again,” his dad says to Jared, pausing. After several long moments, Dad offers a meek smile, “You just won’t believe this, somehow, I’ve completely blanked on your name.”

“Jared’s fine.” says the man as he holds out his hand.

His dad hesitates for a moment before reaching out and gripping Jared’s hand loosely and shaking once. He pulls his hand back hastily and crosses his arms. “Right, Jared.” He’s quiet, awkwardly fiddling with his coat. “Before I leave, how’s school? No failing grades I should know about?”

Dean shakes his head, “No, I did okay.”

“Okay?” Jared asks. “You get better grades than I do.” Dean’s not entirely sure that’s true but it’s nice he’s trying to make him look good in front of his dad.

Dean smiles and half-shrugs, “That’s news to me.”

“Okay, well it sounds like you’re doing fine. Good.” Dad nods, voice a bit overly positive to be entirely sincere, “Good.”

“We should head out,” Brock says, “supposed to be a storm tonight.”

“At least we’ll have a white Christmas,” Jared offers.

“Oh, I don’t think you two will need snow for that.”

Jared is snickering with a hand over his mouth before Dean catches on to what his dad said.

“Dad,” Dean tries to say in a chastising tone but instead it comes out in more of a squeak.

“Sorry, sorry, too soon, I get it.” His dad waves his hands and Brock is shifting his face in a really unnatural way, as if he’s trying not to laugh. “Bye, Dean.”

Dean waves when his dad finally leaves the room. Brock nods with a small smile and waves back. Brock mercifully closes the door on his way out.

Dean takes a deep breath in. For what feels like forever, neither of them say anything.

“Wow. So, that happened.” Dean says, feeling a little dizzy.

Jared steps over and wraps his arm around his neck, yanking him over in the nook of his elbow.

“Hey!” Dean chirps out, laughing.

“So, I guess we’re dating now.” Jared says, leaning his head on Dean’s. Dean pulls away for a moment before relenting.

“Apparently.” Dean says in between giggles.

Jared leans his head up and turns to him, his arm holding him loosening its grip, “You okay with that?”

Dean snorts. “Well, yeah, is there that big a of a leap from what we’re doing now to dating?”

“No,” Jared responds quickly, “we just never… You know, established if we wanted to… be serious.”

“Are you okay with it?” Dean reflects the question back to him, feeling a touch nervous. Maybe he just wanted to be “friends who kiss and have sex sometimes” only after all? That was okay, Dean supposes, they would still be friends after all and that was what mattered most to him.

“What if I said I wanted to be serious?” Jared asks, a small smile on his lips, eyes unreadable.

“Then…” Dean isn’t sure what to say. “Then I guess we won’t have to do the whole awkward introducing each other to our parents thing again. Well, my side at least.”

Jared’s smile spread into a grin, eyes nearly sparkling in unspoken joy. “This upgrade sounds like it might be expensive.” he jokes, his grin falling into a toothy smirk.

“Oh, it is.” Dean plays along.

“In that case, I better make sure I have a good buffer. You know, in case a miss a day or two...” Jared says in a low voice as he turns, leading Dean to walk backwards. Dean follows his lead, and when his legs hit a desk, he quietly slips onto it, Jared following closely in lead.

At this angle, Jared seems sort of like a predator, like he’s stalking Dean like prey, and Dean’s heart flutters as if he’s a rabbit on his back while a wolf hovers over him. And when Jared leans in and says “Or maybe a month...” against his neck, he sounds sort of like one too, but in the best way.

“I don’t know if I can keep count that high.” Dean laughs out when Jared plants a soft kiss where his neck meets his head.

“Oh, that’s fine, we can start over then.” Jared explains in a low, warm voice in between kisses running down Dean’s neck. Dean laughs a bit at the sensation, it always sort of tickles at first, but leans back to give Jared more access--

Crunch. Dean feels something crumble against the small of his back.

They both pause.

Dean reaches behind himself and grasps blindly-- he pulls the offending object out.

“Oh no, the cookies that wizard guy made.” Jared says but Dean isn’t sure if he’s being facetious or not.

“They’ll still taste good.” Dean says as he opens the bag, fishing one out. He pulls up a little gingerbread man with no head.

“Eh, it’s for the best, it’s more humane to take off the head first.” Jared says in a playful tone.

“Yeah, but what about this one?” Dean says as he fishes out another with its entire lower half missing.

Jared looks at it for a moment. Then he purses his lips, tilts his head, shrugs, and leans in, snapping his teeth over the head of the cookie man. “There,” he says while chewing, “put the poor guy out of his misery.”

Dean snorts and hands Jared the bag, “Put these somewhere where my butt won’t get in the way.”

“Oh, certainly,” Jared says as he places the bag on Dean’s dresser by his desk, “can’t have anything impeding that ass.”

Dean slumps his head back and slides back so he’s up against the wall, “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you have an infectious laugh.” Jared says as he returns to where he was before the cookie tragedy struck, “It’s a vicious cycle, really.”

“Yeah, okay, ‘Mr. I’m Serious.’”

“What? I’m totally suited for serious roles!” Jared feigns offense. “Listen, Dean, if something terrible happened to you,” Jared begins in an affected tone, face flat, “I promise, no matter what…” Jared looks down at the ground, lips open slightly. His eyes slowly move back up to Dean's face. “That I’ll eat your head to put you out of your misery.”

Dean snorts and covers his mouth with hand. “Jared!” Oh, come on! That was so obvious!

“And that’s what true love is.” Jared adds in a deep, booming voice, like he’s announcing a movie trailer.

Dean feels tears pricking at his eyes and it’s hard to breathe. He breathes in deeply and collects himself, giggling here and there as he does so. Jared opens his mouth and Dean almost leaps forward, a hand covering his lips. He takes another few seconds to catch his breath while Jared raises a brow at him.

“Can you shut up,” Dean breathes in deeply, “and kiss me?”

Jared’s brows raise and then fall. Dean can feel his warm, soft lips form into a smile under his fingers. Hesitantly, Dean pulls away his hand and leans back.

“I can do that.” Jared replies softly as he leans in, shortly proving he isn't a liar.

\---------------------------------------------------

In the Lobby

“So, that happened.” says White as they step off the elevator. It had been an intensely awkward and _long_ elevator ride with no one talking.

“It’s wonderful to see young love bloom,” Orpheus consoles Hatred somewhere behind Rusty. Ugh, right, Hatred started outright bawling the moment they got into that tiny metal death trap, yammering about how Dean was a “man” now or something. Wasn’t that _Rusty’s_ job? What a drama queen. He’d almost been able to forget about the large man’s wailing behind the screech of the elevator doors sliding open.

“Told you.” White adds in a casual tone as then step off the elevator.

Rusty doesn’t have the energy to have this discussion. He decides to have it anyway. “So I was wrong, sue me. Screw me for not knowing my kid is gay when he doesn’t tell me.”

“Well, he could be bi.” says Brock to his left.

“Okay, screw me for not knowing my kid is bi.” Rusty reiterates. “I’m a bad dad, I get it!”

Brock kind of cringes and shrugs, giving a waving hand motion. “Naaaaaaah. There’s… worse.”

“That’s soooo comforting...” Rusty grumbles.

He thought he’d handled it okay. He probably shouldn’t have joked, he wasn’t sure if that was insensitive or something, and admittedly he probably shouldn’t have asked about condoms but chlamydia is a very real concern, damn it! He’d say the same thing to Hank if he’d known he was dating someone-- anyone. And probably add in a lecture about Plan B if it was a girl. Which just proves how open minded he is! If it’s a girl, he’d be _more_ obnoxious about protection. He is _so_ open minded.

“You handled that well.” Brock says quietly as they walk a bit ahead of the rest of the group. They’re hanging back because they’re apparently trying to drag Hatred out of the elevator before it closes for the third time. “For you.” Brock adds just as Rusty was about to start develop some confidence in himself.

Rusty sighs. He supposes that was the best he’d get. “Thanks. I thought I did ok.”

“He knows you love him. That’s enough.” Brock holds the door open for him.

Rusty smiles even though the wind that blows in and connects with his sweaty skin instantly makes him despise everything the season of winter stands for. “Well, of course I do. He’s my kid for goodness’ sake.”

“How’s it feel being a father in law?” Brock asks but his eyes are behind him. Rusty can still hear Hatred wailing and Orpheus comforting him. He really doesn’t know why he bothers. That man’s too nice for his own good.

“Weird. But it could be nice, I guess. I think we can both agree that I’ve been just ‘dad’ a lot longer than most parents anyway.” He shrugs and pulls on his gloves, settling himself in mentally for a long wait while Hatred pulls whats left of him back together.


End file.
